Strock."
"Then let us start."
We cautioned the coachman not to let the horses stray beyond the
clearing. Then we started. Wells went in advance, I followed him, and
John Hart and Nab Walker came behind. In the darkness, we three would
have been helpless without the guidance of Wells. Soon we reached the
farther border of the woods; and before us stretched the banks of
Black Rock Creek.
All was silent; all seemed deserted. We could advance without risk.
If the "Terror" was there, she had cast anchor behind the rocks. But
was she there? That was the momentous question! As we approached the
denouement of this exciting affair, my heart was in my throat.
Wells motioned to us to advance. The sand of the shore crunched
beneath our steps. The two hundred feet between us and the mouth of
the Creek were crossed softly, and a few minutes sufficed to bring us
to the rocks at the edge of the lake.
There was nothing! Nothing!
The spot where Wells had left the "Terror" twenty-four hours before
was empty. The "Master of the World" was no longer at Black Rock
Creek.
Chapter 12
BLACK ROCK CREEK
Human nature is prone to illusions. Of course, there had been all
along a probability that the "Terror" had deserted the locality, even
admitting that it was she Wells had seen the previous day.
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